even when I was young, I wore sunglasses

While at my parents' house a few weeks ago for Thanksgiving I went through some photo albums looking for a picture that I wanted to send to FH. I found a few others that were pretty funny:

"I can read my own book grandma. Don't like that? Talk to the slippers."

Why let a social engagement keep you from that riveting book?

For halloween, of course I wore my ballet costume because I was obsesses with it. It was probably not intended to be worn with a turtleneck.

The next year I was too big for my ballet costume so I went as a witch. Worst. Costume. Ever.

Here I'm wearing my ballet costume for no reason. I used to put it on as soon as I got home from school. And, um, no, I wasn't taking ballet classes anymore.

Everyone complains I don't take pictures without my sunglasses. I started that at an early age. I'm in the forefront striking a pose. I'm guessing someone must have given us the sunglasses since we're all wearing them.

I even wore my sunglasses in the house.

And I also get the complaint I'm always wearing a hat in pictures. Better than a bucket...

I always wrecked the family photos by doing something stupid. Like wearing black knee high socks with white shoes and refusing to stand with everyone else.

This pic was taken in White Sands, NM, after we escaped flooding in Colorado. Everything we owned got wet so we put it out in the parking lot to dry. My dad was trying to take a picture of us on this sand dune when I decided to slide down the dune to make it more of an "action" shot.

Here I am in my dad's lab (wearing my favorite plaid pants). No idea who that other kid is, probably some other dad dragged him into work to feed punch cards into the computer like me.

The type writer on which I wrote my first story, at the age of 5. It was about a loaf of bread that could talk and fly. Guessing my mom was making bread at the time.

I sent this to FH and he said my brother Bob may have been in the first ever planking picture.

maybe a step closer to publishing

After so many rejections I had more or less given up hope, at least for a few months, of my memoir My Other Nine Lives ever getting published. But since I took Friday off, and was at my parents' house without the normal distractions of my house, I sat down and sent out a few more book proposals.

A publisher responded within two hours to my query letter and asked me to send my MS. I did, and a few hours after that she said my book looked interesting and that she wanted to publish it. She sent me a contract which my Uncle Joe is reviewing. I also did a ton of research on the publisher this time in writer forums and a web site for writers that identifies scams.

Hoping for the best but preparing for the worst...

This is the outline for my memoir:

Salt, Seaweed, Sewage: Sharkfest 2001

Even though I didn’t really know how to swim, I signed up for a 1.5-mile open-water race from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco. I taught myself to swim by watching videos on the Internet, which turned out to be (barely) adequate preparation. Getting lost mid-bay and initially missing the finish line added to the excitement of swimming in three-foot waves under which lurked sea lions, sharks, and raw sewage dumped by boats.

After realizing that I was a horrible swimmer, my partner offered to take pictures of me so I could compare them to my Internet photos. Hands flailing, neck awkwardly bent, I appeared to be either doing an imitation of a blender or simulating a shark attack.

Screaming Barfies

In 2002 after reading Jon Krakauer’s Eiger Dreams, I decided to ice-climb, even though I hate the cold and have a fear of heights. I arrived in the Adirondacks in February to subzero temperatures and with horribly inadequate winter gear, and soon found my rain shell and thin gloves to be poor protection against the frigid wind. Meanwhile, five other women on the trip vying for the attention of our very cute guide made for intense social dynamics.

Then I realized I couldn’t dislodge either ice ax. I tried yanking them backward and forward, first working my left ax and then my right. They were firmly entrenched in the ice. Frigid air blew over my face. Suddenly, I found myself sympathetic to mice in those little glue traps.

The Conquering Quarks

Returning to the ‘Daks for a more advanced ice-climbing trip in 2003, I completed my first multi-pitch ice route. It was a fear-provoking experience as I had neglected to take a class to learn rope work skills. Challenging a group of guy climbers to a game of Bloody Knuckles at the dinner table one night proved a mistake, as was staying in a motel that advertised its “disposable washcloths.”

“Don’t you even have a belay jacket? Didn’t Warren just give you one?” Ian, my guide, asked.

“Uh, he did give me a belay jacket, but I left it at home because it makes me look like a stack of tires,” I replied.

Blood, Bait, and Boys on the Boat

In 2003, I took a trip to Isla Guadalupe, off Baja, Mexico, to cage-dive with great white sharks. During our seven days on the water, a great white bit through our anchor line, I discovered why you aren’t supposed to put body parts outside the shark cage, and I learned that I’m damned good at making chum.

I heard a commotion behind me in the shark cage. Ram Bam had come up under the shadow of the boat, circled around, and was headed toward me. He was close and quickly getting closer. I instinctively pulled backward, but the sides of my Neptune II mask had caught against the outside of the bars. I couldn’t get my head back in the cage.

They Like To Run

A Christmas 2003 trip to learn to dogsled was almost ruined when I became lost driving through upstate New York. Later, I faced a sled dog that wanted to kill me, discovered that my climbing skills would save me from having to pick up dog poop, and locked my keys in my car in the middle of a frozen field forty miles from civilization.

I envisioned what remained of the tendons in my knee separating like rotted rope strands if I tried to stop a sled with my foot. “You can also throw this anchor,” said the guide. It looked like a cross between a shovel head and a gladiator weapon. I tried to picture throwing it into the snow…without first accidentally impaling myself. Not going to use the anchor, I decided.

Buford

Partnering up with the alpine ace Will Mayo during my second season of ice climbing, in March 2004, led to my first experience climbing rock with ice tools. That Sunday afternoon at Chapel Pond, in the Adirondacks, I realized that you can climb a tree while wearing crampons, that ice climbs can have entire sections with no ice, and that blood on the ice triggers cravings for pizza.

I was about to declare victory over the ice route “Buford” when my foot placement burst like a rotted tooth mid-root canal. Fighting to get back in balance, I hooked my left ice ax behind a curtain of icicles as structurally sound as peppermint sticks.

Skydiving with a SEAL

Having signed up in 2005 for a skydiving experience with a friend, I found myself strapped to a retired Navy SEAL wearing a lilac jumpsuit. He skipped the important information about the jump and focused on other, more mundane details…like what would happen to my skull if I walked into a moving propeller.

The jump was starting to remind me more and more of a really bad date, except that I wasn’t on a date with this retired SEAL, Paul; I was instead strapped so closely to him I could feel his appendectomy scar.

Plan B

In 2008 my partner and I went to Zion to do a big wall climb called Plan B solely because I wanted to sleep in a portaledge. Life 400 feet off the ground wasn’t simple. Bathroom breaks had to be timed around the tourist bus that drove by every 15 minutes taking pictures, big wall food was unpalatable, and wind can derail a good night’s sleep.

The portaledge was lufting like an unsecured main sail in a storm. I thought the little metal poles would grind down to nothing. They made an ominous noise as the wind pushed them against the rock. Clang, clang, scrape. An ice cream truck driven by the grim reaper would make such a noise.

Pikes Peak Epic

On a hiking trip with my father in 2006, two kamikaze mountain bikers careering down the trail caused me to twist my zombie knee. I punctuated the excruciating six-mile hike back down to the car with torrents of expletives and bouts of vomiting, while my dad attempted to convince me that chewing a five-year-old piece of gum would lessen the pain. I knew I would survive when my dad spotted a sign of civilization and reminded me that no mountaineer has ever died within eyeshot of a tennis court.

My father seemed surprised. "You aren't even drunk and you threw up,” he said. Now he was worried. I admitted my knee was hurting. A lot.

ginger shark

Give two engineers a gingerbread house kit:

from world market - $9

work table...don't forget the wine

And come up with something new!

When my mom asked if I wanted to help her make a gingerbread house. I was like "do you mind if we do something avant-garde?" I think she thought I meant "let's make a crazy house". But what I really meant was "let's make a ginger shark".

snowman peep is getting eaten - but he likes sharks so he's still smiling

this snowman peep was supposed to be tagging the shark - instead he decorated it with a wreath

this snowman peep is stabbing the shark in the tail with a spear because he's an asshole

the complete ginger shark

pre screen

I usually rip on TSA but I would like to say "thank you!" for putting me on the TSA pre-screened list. I guess after all these years of flying they've figured out I'm not a terrorist.

I do wonder about the sanity of some of my fellow travelers, however. On Friday I rushed to Burbank after my ToGAF training class and arrived at my gate to find the raving cat lady. She was an older (60s) woman dressed in hippy clothes yelling into her phone so loud you could go into the ladies room and still hear her. It seems that while she was doing what ever it is that crazy cat ladies do in Burbank a neighbor called animal control because she had a dying cat missing one leg hanging out in her front yard. Animal control put the cat to sleep, at which point the neighbor called crazy cat lady to inform her. Crazy cat lady called animal control and started screaming at them.

In her conversation with the neighbor and animal control it could be deduced that she had MANY cats but thought it was silly to assume a cat would be in pain, or near death, just because it was missing a leg. She kept screaming at animal control "BUT DID YOU FOLLOW PROTOCOL????" I was texting with a colleague who was in the other terminal (to see if he could hear crazy cat lady - he couldn't) and my colleague said "with your luck she will be sitting next to you!" I decided that I would protest if that were the case.

Instead I was seated next to a British guy who seemed normal at first. But shortly after take off he tapped my arm and said "do you have any rubbish for the stewardess?" and then pointed to the (empty) aisle. I was like "Ummmmmmmm. No.", closed my eyes, and tried to sleep.

But sleep was impossible since the brit kept tapping me and asking me if I had any rubbish for the stewardess. A few times the stewardess actually were collecting trash but for the most part he was apparently seeing something I wasn't (like someone collecting trash).

When we landed the brit stood up before we had stopped at the gate. As the stewardesses yelled for him to sit down he turned to the passengers (we were seated in row 2), bowed to the plane, thanked everyone for flying with him, and then saluted all the passengers (admittedly it was a pretty gallant salute).

Just when I thought the situation couldn't get any stranger I saw him pull a stuffed penguin out of his pocket. A key was attached to one of the penguin's legs with yarn. He pet the penguin on the head and put it back in his pocket.

It was...just...weird.

But better than crazy cat lady.

certified, certifiable

Last week I attended training for the ToGAF 9 Foundation and Practitioner class. It was supposed to be a 5 day class but because of the holiday on Monday it was compressed into 4 days.

Let me be the first to say I am way too old to sit in a class for 10 hours. Weirdly, I knew two of the people who built the course because I worked with them in the middle east. I spent the first day busting the instructor's balls because I was bored but then he let me teach part of the class so I started having fun. All in all it was an interesting experience.

After the class you can take two exams to get certified in ToGAF. I signed up to take the exams today even though that only gave me a weekend to study. I didn't want to have to study over the thanksgiving holiday so it seemed worth it to spend all saturday and sunday studying.

I went to a building in Aurora to take the exam. The place was a dump, out by the airport, and they could only have one student at a time taking exams since there was only one test room, with one computer and one chair (I thought the place in Abu Dhabi was a dump, this one was worse). The test proctor was a Jamaican guy who was eating spaghetti, talking on the phone, and watching one of those shows where women are yelling at men for cheating on them.

I introduced myself and asked his name. He said "Oh...you can call me...Bob." He made me sign in on a roster where I noted the last time someone took an exam there was in September. Then he asked for two forms of photo ID with a picture and signature. I handed him my passport and driver's license, then had to show him where the photo page was. He asked if he could keep my passport while I was taking my exam so he could look at all the stamps (I agreed, and then had to answer questions about all the work permits in my passport).

After some scurrying he got the computer ready for my test and then said "but something seems wrong with you?" I explained that if I failed the test I'd have to pay $535 to retake it. He looked worried, clasped his hands, and said "It's okay, I am going to pray to God that you will pass. I will be here praying very hard." He pointed to his chair. He also let me take my water into the exam because he said "you're so out of sorts, I think it's good for you to have your water."

I took the first exam, which was way fucking harder than the practice exam. I had 60 minutes, finished in 20, reviewed the exam, and finally submitted it (30 minutes had passed). The computer slogged along while I sat there with a shitty feeling in the pit of my stomach which turned to relief that I had passed.

I walked out to see "Bob" standing next to the printer that prints out the official "you passed" certificate. He was looking anxious until he saw my face and he said "I am so happy to see you smile! I think you have passed!" I asked if I could start the second part of the test even though it wasn't officially supposed to start until 30 minutes had passed. He agreed, set it up, and wished me luck. He even turned the TV way down to the point where I could barely hear it.

I had 1 1/2 hours for the second exam. After 55 minutes I submitted it figuring fuck it, reading it over and over again wouldn't help. I actually found it slightly easier in some ways than the first exam, but still really hard. I forgot to eat this morning because I was so worried about the exam. My stomach was growling and my hands were going numb because the room was so cold (you aren't allowed to wear a jacket in the test room). I started freaking out that I was going to fail.

But a few minutes after I submitted my exam the computer said I passed. When I walked out "Bob" was standing by the printer again. He held both my passed printouts up in the air and said "You PASSED! I KNEW you could do it! I am so happy for you!"

Then he shook my hand and beamed at me like a proud parent. I was still feeling a little shell shocked but was happy the tests were over.

He asked me what the test was about and I tried to explain it in layman's terms. He said "It's obvious you know this topic, you should not have worried about passing." Um, yeah, but, it's not as simple as my explanation.

Anyway, glad that's over. Back to having fun!

sugar, unicorns, and goat

 On Saturday FH and I went to meyer ranch to test out my new bike. The frame is smaller than my old bike, which is good, and it's supposed to be for someone 5'8" - 6 feet tall. I do look a little funny on it because my limbs are abnormally long.

on the trail

what a gorilla would look like on a bike

Now that I have a soft tail my biking skills have improved a lot. I rode stuff on Saturday that I never would have been able to ride on my cannondale. Hopefully I'll get to ride again next weekend.

FH's front shock is broken so he decided to ride the trail on his cyclocross bike. As we got to the top of a really steep section of the trail an old man stopped FH and said "I've been hiking here for years and I've NEVER seen anyone on a bicycle on this trail." On the way to the top we passed three other hiking parties who all stared in disbelief as FH rode by and commented on his bike. One guy stood staring as FH whizzed by and then turned to his two female companions and said "was that guy...on a bicycle????"

I later joked "it's not like you were riding a unicorn up the trail" which FH thought was funny.

Then we went to the asian market on Federal to get some goat because I bought some rogan josh and thought FH might be able to replicate one of my favorite indian dishes. We need to do some research on how to pick out the right cut of goat because the piece we had was either really tough or really tender.

cutting the skin off the goat - sharp knife is helpful

rogan josh goat stew

It turns out FH's curry is better than the stuff I bought, which was loaded with sugar and salt. We're going to do another experiment with the goat in the slow cooker maybe next weekend to see how that turns out.

singing dogs

On Saturday night I had a dream that FH and I were auditioning dogs to sing for us at a party. There were a variety of dogs, and some of them were wearing things. One had a bow tie and one had a crazy hat and one was wearing oven mitts and a beret. Each dog had four square panels behind it. As they would sing, and they were all horrible singers, the panels would turn different colors. The dogs' voices sounded like a person who can't sing, and their choice of songs was questionable (one sang Memories - that's cats dude!).

At the end of each dog's performance it would sing "I'm very very happy! I'm where I'm supposed to be!" Then, if we didn't pick the dog, the panels behind it would start to spin and the dog was sucked into another universe (don't ask me how I know that). FH and I felt terrible because we weren't sure what universe the dog would end up in, and whether it would be alive when it got there. So we started talking about how we could save all the dogs by saying we wanted them to sing for us. Meanwhile, as we talked, the dogs were getting sucked into another universe.

One of the dogs started singing Jessie's Girl and I was like "we really need to do SOMETHING before all the dogs in the world get sucked away".

Then I woke up.

cringle crisp caper illustrations

I've started trying to illustrate my children's book because it's easier than writing (haven't finished the prologue but will work on it this week).

I sketched these while FH was watching Monday night football last week. His response was "those are good honey". My thought was "maybe with such horrible illustrations my book will get some attention, even if negative".

Here they are:

Maybe I should take some drawing lessons...

new house project!!!!

FH and I have been talking about me moving into his house. Of course, I just finished remodeling my house so I was kind of torn. I mentioned a few things I wanted to change in his house. The upstairs had this ugly green carpet I called the pee pee carpet. His bedroom doesn't get much light in the morning and because of where the bed is positioned it's hard to make it up in the morning (don't laugh - major source of stress for me is an unmade bed).

We decided to wait until spring to make a few remodels in the upstairs (there are two small bedrooms we wanted to make into one large bedroom). Then yesterday, while I was at home on an evening meeting, I got a text that said "I was right, there's a lot more light". I glanced at the picture and realized that FH had ripped out the wall between the two small bedrooms.

He's right. There IS a lot more light.

He ripped out the pee pee carpet. This is the original wood floor in the house. It was covered up by a subfloor, vinyl tile, a carpet pad, and a carpet.

One of his friends is going to fix the wall and we're going to have the wood floors redone.

There were some ugly shelves built into the wall. FH ripped them out and gained a foot of space in the room.

So much for being done with remodeling...but, I have to admit, I like remodeling. And I get to make the design decisions...

lover's leap, redux

On Sunday FH and I decided we couldn't waste what might be the last gorgeous day of the year and we went back to lover's leap to finish up two 5.9 routes that we didn't get to the last time we were there.

I packed a fleece even though it was in the mid-70s. By the time we got to Golden the sky had started to cloud over and the temperature was noticeably cooler. FH didn't have a sweat shirt but thought he'd be okay. We got to the climbing area right as two couples with their kids were leaving. One of the moms was like "I bet you're glad to see us go". Um, yeah. I don't like climbing around kids and badly behaved dogs off leash.

FH started up the first nine. By the time he was at the second bolt my hands were frozen even though I was wearing my fleece. I don't know how he did it but he finished the route only stopping twice to warm up his hands. When it was my turn to climb I had to stop every few minutes to try to get my hands warm. I have frostbite damage in my fingers to begin with and the rock was almost as cold as ice (there was still snow on the ground from Monday). The rock is granite with a lot of crimpy holds which are hard to grab when you can't feel your hands. I fell three times trying to get through a blank section that just had small holds because I couldn't move my hands.

After taking a 5 foot fall - FH almost got the fall because he was about to take my pic when it happened.

My ass. It looks like this crack is easy climbing but it wasn't deep. I had to do a lay back on it.

By the time we were done climbing neither of us could feel our hands or feet. The sky was cloudy and it was getting colder by the second (and I was regretting leaving the windows open at FH's house). But it was still a lot of fun and I'm glad we got a day out climbing before ski season starts.

Let it snow!

sugar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Since I've totally demolished the derailleur on my mountain bike (don't ask - there is a reason my mountain bike is called Max Crash) I haven't been able to go biking lately. Also, the front shock was broken (I didn't do that, it happened when I had my bike shipped to Colorado) and it has A LOT of miles on it. Ten years may not be old for most mountain bikes, but it's old for mine.

FH found me this bike on eBay and bought it for me.

gary fisher sugar!!!!!!!!!!!

Can't wait to take it for a spin!!!!!!!!!!!!

last adventure for this year in the toy hauler

collegiate peaks!

 Since this was the last weekend for camping in the toy hauler FH proposed we take a trip to do some climbing and dirt biking.

We left for 4 mile canyon late Friday afternoon. Typical, it started raining as soon as we got on the highway. And because it was raining there was no moon. The area where we were camping is off 285 on a dirt road. It was quite an adventure trying to find it, but we finally did.

Saturday morning I realized I had forgotten to bring my climbing gear. FH was like "grrr". We decided to go for a hike instead. It was a great hike and there were no snakes.

We decided to spend the afternoon riding dirt bikes. I haven't been on a bike since 2007 so I was a little nervous. The bike I was using is really slow though so I thought I would be okay. We got about a mile down a dirt road and I was going way too slow on my bike so we decided to split up. He was going to ride a trail that looped back around to the road I was on so we could meet up again.

I didn't have cell service so I was on my own. And right after FH rode away I realized that I had never kick started the bike I was on. I worried with my zombie knee that I wouldn't be able to do it. So the whole time I was riding I was freaking out about stalling the bike...

...which I did when some asshole swerved onto my road from another road and almost ran me over. I steered out of his way, grabbed the clutch, and stalled. I tried to kick start the bike. Nothing. I tried to roll start it. Nothing. I was 6 miles from the camp site and not entirely sure where I was. Just as I was about to abandon the bike and start walking a family pulled up. It took three of them 5 minutes to finally start the bike.

I managed to make it almost back to the camp site when I took a final turn from the road I was on to the road the camp site was on (I was about a quarter of a mile from the camp site). As I went into the turn I second guessed myself, thought "hm, am I going to fast?" and suddenly I dumped the bike. I hit the ground right arm first and then bounced. Sitting right across from where I wrecked was a fat woman in a van. She waited until I got the bike upright before asking if I was okay. Um, thanks. For the record, the front fork on the bike is twisted and the handlebars are bent so that played a part in my wreck (I should have been able to take the turn at the speed I was going if the bike wasn't jacked up).

I tried to start the bike but it wouldn't start. So I decided to walk back to the camp site and wait for FH. Luckily, just as I took off my helmet he showed up in his truck. After a number of tries he got the bike started and we went back to the camp site.

That's where he discovered that I had broken his chest protector in my fall (where I hit the ground with my arm). He said in the 13 years he's been wearing a chest protector he's never cracked one. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or disappointed in me.

have padding - will break it

FH jumping without getting injured...and I can't even make a simple turn without wrecking

Then we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon shooting guns because he thought that was a safer thing for me to do. You can see how dirty my arm is from the fall. I shot up a beer can and a pumpkin. I kept trying to hit a coke can but couldn't. FH said it's because I love coke so much that I can't bear to shoot the can.

"she's a pacifist - mostly"

Saturday night it got so cold that the batteries for the toy hauler froze along with our water. Luckily the generator had enough fuel to keep us warm. Sunday it was too cold to ride (I forgot my gloves) so we headed back to Denver.

Next up...skiing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let it snow (cubed)!!!!!!!!!!

don't worry, I'll get a helmet

FH borrowed a bike from a friend and got it running so we could do some dirt biking together. We were supposed to go riding on Sunday but the weather wasn't very good. So FH was like "let's ride around my yard". I think, after he had to save me from a rattle snake, he might have been worried about what I would do on a motorcycle (haven't ridden in 5 years) on a trail. His backyard was a great way to get back into the swing of things.

It was fun! Can't wait to go out on a trail!

riding on gravel is always a good way to feel incompetent

the friend who lent us the bike, Balls, looked at this pic and said "so she's wearing one knee pad but no helmet" - I'm also wearing FH's jacket because it has a padded back and padded elbows

the hardest way to get a new vacuum

FH and I were going to go skiing today, but decided there wasn't enough good snow to not fuck up my new AT skis. And we were thinking to take out the dirt bikes (one of his friends lent me his dirt bike) but we decided to wait until tomorrow to go.

So instead of doing something "dangerous" we thought to do a hike at Roxborough. The park was so crowded that they had stopped letting people in (I'm happy for the park but sad for myself...I miss the old days of going there on the weekends and being practically the only one there). We headed to Mt. Falcon for a mellow hike.

We were about a mile from the car finishing our hike when I heard something that I thought was birds rustling in the bushes. Suddenly FH grabbed me and pushed me backward. I was like "I wonder what the fuck he's doing????" and then he said "RATTLESNAKE!"

I didn't see it at first reminding me of the old saying "if it was a snake it would have bitten you". Under the shadow of a bush not 2 feet from where we standing was a not very large but VERY aggressive rattlesnake. I was like "seriously fucker, there's snow on the ground!" Maybe that's why he was in such a bad mood. He lunged at us and then rattled like he was getting paid to make noise (maybe a stint on fox news next - hee). If it hadn't been for FH's superhuman reflexes I'm sure I would have gotten bitten.

what ever you cranky asspipe - go bite yourself and fuck off

Most of the snakes I've encountered in the wild (rattle or otherwise) back the fuck off once I back off. But this guy was standing his ground and biting at the air and generally being a cranky fuck for brains who wouldn't get off the trail. I was frozen but FH was calmly snapping pictures.

"What should we do?" I asked, thinking that if it was by myself I'd hike the long 5 miles back to the car rather than try to get past the snake. The trail was narrow with a steep drop off on the non-snake side. Plus, I didn't want to get bit and then have to hike a mile back to the car.

We talked about options and ended up with an idea to jump onto a boulder directly opposite the snake (with the idea that it couldn't bite us that high off the ground) and then to jump from the boulder to the trail, landing as far from the snake as possible. With my zombie knee I'm not really a jumper so I was like "hm". We decided I should go first in case something happened. It took me a minute or two to make the moves but we both managed to get past the snake.

When we got back to the car my hands were still shaking. But, I didn't hyperventilate or cry the way I used to do (guess I'm losing my fear of snakes even though experts have failed to give good advice - perhaps my middle east dream was correct).

I think FH felt really sorry for me because I've been asking him to get a new vacuum for the past month (his doesn't work as well as mine and I've been bringing mine over to his house). On the way home he said "Let's go get a new vacuum."

I've already vacuumed the house and the garage with it

Not happy about the snake encounter, but I'm very happy about the new vacuum!

my blackberry is as fucked as my dreams

Last night I had a dream that FH and I were walking through some scary woods looking for a serial murderer. We saw a couple we know, J and C, laying under a tree on a moving blanket. C, the male member of the couple, was, inexplicably, wearing large horn rimmed glasses.

We asked what they were doing and they said they were camping in the woods and planned to sleep there. I was like "dudes, there's a serial murderer somewhere in the woods!" But C was like "look at all the pretty flowers!" and ignored me (not that a guy ignoring a woman when she's talking is something novel).

While everyone was looking at the flowers I noticed a fat bald guy in a white wife beater and beige polyester pants wandering towards us. I realized he was the serial murderer. I was like "look, it's the murderer and he's come to kill J and C!"

Then I woke up.

It was 430 in the morning. FH was awake, doing work (he wakes up throughout the night to "check on things" at his software company). I told him about my dream and he was like "hm, that's interesting". I fell back to sleep and the dream started again, except that J and C were gone. The murderer was still there. He walked by us and as he did FH said "you're a fucking fat ass". The murderer started chasing us through the woods. As we ran I was like "I can't believe we're going to get murdered in the woods because you called him a fucking fat ass!" Then I woke up.

I tried to tell FH about my second dream but he was still working. I fell back to sleep again and this time dreamed that FH's dogs had come down with a virus that turned them into zombies. The only way to cure them was to feed them little vitamin c pills. The dogs didn't want to take the pills and kept biting us then running away and hiding. Suddenly a tiny grey dog about the size of my hand ran into the house and said "I'll take vitamin c! I love vitamin c!" FH picked up the little dog and said "you're my new favorite dog! you're the best dog in the world!"

As he held the dog I noticed there was something wrong with the dog's face. As I looked closer I realized what it was. "FH, that's not a dog, that's a talking sock!" I said.

Then I woke up (the alarm went off).

As fucked up as my dreams were it's nothing in comparison to how fucked up my blackberry is. I tried to update the software because I can't receive emails anymore and I couldn't fix the problem. My blackberry has thrown more errors than the crap software I used to write. I'm hoping I can restore it otherwise I'm phoneless and I'm not sure the fuckwits at verizon will be able to fix it since they can't even get my billing statements right.

Ech.

so much irony, so little time

I came into the office today because I'm having dry wall work done at my house and didn't want noise in the background while I was doing a very important presentation this morning.

Literally 5 minutes after my presentation began a guy showed up with a bucket opposite my cube...

...and started doing dry wall work.

one hopes the holes were not caused by someone's head

You will have guessed of course -> my dry wall guy didn't show up.

Perhaps I should take the rest of the week off.

rich guy, with a twist

I know some of you hate it when I blog about my dreams, but I had a revelation last night...

I had a dream that I was in a building with my family in DC (which, actually, I was this past weekend). A older guy (60s-ish) with a totally fake looking tan came up to us and said "your uncle asked me to get into contact with you." I was like WTF?

He proceeded to tell us that we had an uncle who was really rich, and who was dying in Belize. He wanted everyone to take a month off from work to go to Belize to be with this uncle. He had a big suitcase, which he opened, that was full of all kinds of jewels and other shit like gold coins. Everyone in my family was like "really????" The guy said the uncle wanted to give us all of his wealth and that's why he wanted us to get in contact with him.

Then he said "but, you'll have to bring him some medicine." Sun tan guy produced the medicine, which looked like seaweed that they use in sushi (one second...yum...sushi) all packaged up in an airtight ziploc-like bag. He said "the medicine is $124.50." (forgive my engineering brain - I was just watching a show with fun hog yesterday about eliminating decimal points - um, don't ask). Each of us picked up one of the airtight packages and the sun tan guy pulled out an iphone with that square thing and ran our cards through. Then we went to the airport, and jewelry started falling out of tan guy's suitcase as we were walking in. So he took out this blue plastic scoop (like something you'd use to clean a litter box) and started scooping jewels into our pockets and bags.

I started thinking "what the fuck is really going on?" The sun tan guy came up to me and said "I heard you wrote a book. Your uncle would really like to read it!" So I gave him a copy (for the record, I do NOT carry around copies of my book) and immediately after realized that the sun tan guy wanted to read it to learn about my family and that there was no rich uncle and that the sun tan guy was trying to use us to smuggle drugs to Belize.

Then I woke up.

...to the revelation that, sure, it's stupid to think of someone smuggling drugs to belize from the US. But what my brain did, through the whole dream, was try to rationalize what was happening in the dream into something that could (in theory) happen in the real world.

So I started wondering if that was a characteristic of the creative brain (not bragging, I am pretty creative). Your brain throws some crazy shit at you and you spend the whole dream trying to rationalize it into something that could really happen.

Or maybe it's a sign of an aspie brain, making order out of disorder.

Or me having a nervous breakdown because some of the other engineers I work with come up with insanely stupid ideas that can be proven, with simple mathematics, to not work, and yet I have to entertain them so no one gets their feelings hurt. I'm not allowed to punch people at this job.

I will spare you the other dream I had last night about a snake that looked like the most ridiculous dog in the world that kept trying to bite my face. The snake was in the driver's seat of my car and I was in a hurry to get somewhere...

hot springs

Last Friday the fun hog invited me to Ojo Caliente, a spa in New Mexico. It was fun though we only went to the hot springs on the last day.

We got a late start and hit traffic so decided to stay in a Walmart parking lot in Alamosa. I haven't been in a Walmart since 2007 because I hate their policies toward women, but I figured the parking lot didn't count.

Pretty scenic for a walmart parking lot

My brother Bob is always worried about my zombie knee. So FH insisted I wear a knee pad so that my brother wouldn't get made at him for taking me mountain biking (we mountain biked a trail around the spa - thought it would be easy - it wasn't - it was a sandy arroyo with lots of loose rocks). I sent this picture to my brother as a joke.

There were a lot of really interesting rock formations on the spa property. This section almost looked man made because the rock was so square.

Cool granite walls. Too bad they were super smooth and breaky. I would be scared to climb here.

To get into the spa pool you have to pay $20. There are 6 pools and I decided I would go into every one of them to get my money's worth. We started out in the arsenic pool (think I swallowed some water when FH and I decided to try to drown each other - we were annoyed by the "whispers only" bullshit signs around the pool). Then I talked him into going into the mud pool (he would only go in up to his knees because he doesn't like to get dirty...even though every sport he does involves getting dirty). There was a cool iron pool that had rocks on the bottom of it (too bad it smelled like farts). The soda pool was interesting but way too hot. Then we went into the main pool (it was just a plain old pool I guess). The sixth pool was closed for repairs.

The spa was fun if you like the outdoors. Otherwise you'll find yourself sitting around with a bunch of would be hippies. The hiking trails and biking trails are not wimpy little spa trails. The granite there is pink and mixed with mica so hiking in the little canyons is like going to a super expensive department store. Very nice.

We saw a bunch of shooting stars and FH found what we think might be a meteorite (more testing on that).

And now I'm in DC because my dad is getting a very prestigious engineering award. Flew in this morning and flying back to Denver tomorrow. Can't say I miss traveling as much as I used to. In fact, I have no idea how I went to the airport every week...

head shot

I got the first shot at the skunk. I shot him in the head and in the tail since he was trying to spray me when I got close to the cage. FH took a few more shots to make sure the skunk was dead. Now we just have to figure out how to dispose of him.

fun hog: "trapped and capped"

The skunk trap finally worked.

bye bye you stinky fuck

Can't wait to go over to fun hog's today to hear the story.